Crying in the rain
by Lothiriel84
Summary: Patrick Jane and his decade-long chase after Red John. - Title from namesake song by A-ha.


_**Author's note: **Written for the Paint It Red July 2012 Monthly Challenge. Prompt: "Only fools carry on."_**  
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**Crying in the rain**

They'd been so close this time.

Red John was there. He was _watching_ them, for crying out loud!

Then Lisbon had to step in and save him. She simply couldn't refrain from playing the hero.

He couldn't care less about his own damn life. How wasn't she able to see that?

He cared about _her_ life though. That's why he shot Hardy.

His body reacted faster than his brain sometimes.

Couldn't afford to lose someone else he cared for. And Lisbon was probably the closest thing to a family he still had nowadays.

He didn't utter a word during the drive back to the Plaskett residence.

As the grateful parents embraced their surviving daughter he just sneaked away.

Strolling aimlessly in the park he came across an orange tree. Oranges smelled so good – especially after what he'd been through.

So he picked one and tasted it slowly.

Some days simple things like that were all he had left. All that prompted him to carry on.

…

Last thing he'd ever been expecting was Red John saving his own life.

It happened nevertheless.

Two young psychos wanted to use him as the victim in their slasher movie. And of course Red John wasn't going to tolerate cheap imitations of his work.

It nearly drove him crazy – being tied to a chair while the man he'd been chasing for so long was only a few inches away. Whispering fiery words into his ear.

_Tyger! Tyger! burning bright…_

And then he was gone.

Later that day Jane drove to his Malibu house and lay down on the mattress in the empty room upstairs.

The red smiley on the wall a mocking reminder of his failure. Once again.

…

He could hardly breathe as he anxiously waited to hear Lisbon's voice at the other end of the line.

Kept on calling her name – again and again.

Until she finally spoke.

_O'Laughlin's dead. I'm wounded, but I'm okay._

Then the fact that she'd been shot momentarily took a backseat to more pressing matters.

He couldn't believe his own ears when he heard that man's cellphone ringing.

Red John was at the mall too – sitting at a nearby table and reading a newspaper.

When he told him what his wife and daughter smelled like on _that_ night he flinched slightly.

Angela had always loved the fragrance of lavender. And he'd bought Charlotte's favorite shampoo just a couple of days before the murder.

Strawberries and cream.

So he shot the man three times in his chest.

Then he went back to his table and drank his lukewarm tea down to the dregs.

Calmly waiting for the security to step in and arrest him.

…

Red John had taken the bait. He'd really bought his act.

Six months. A fake breakdown. Sleeping with one of the serial killer's minions.

He'd even promised he was going to bring Lisbon's head in a box.

(As if he would really kill Teresa. How silly of Red John to believe such a thing.)

Then someone discovered the truth. Apparently there was another mole inside the FBI.

Was all this ever going to end?

"_Go to hell" goes without saying._

At the very least he'd told him that.

He'd nearly lost his ring finger in the process. Luckily the FBI showed up just in the nick of time.

(Lorelei had to choose exactly _that_ finger. Wasn't it ironic?)

He didn't want to think about it though.

All he wanted to do was to hold onto Lisbon's hand. It felt so warm and soothing – just like the woman herself.

The single person who still managed to keep him together.

He would focus on the rest in due time.

…

The rain was drenching him to the skin, but he couldn't care less.

He collapsed in a heap on the ground instead.

Red John was no more. It was really over this time.

His tears mingled with the raindrops falling from the sky.

Then two strong arms wrapped around his body – effectively shielding him from the cold as well as from his own pain.

He rested his head on her shoulder and just kept on breathing.

She was there with him. Everything else didn't actually matter.

(Did he fail Angela and Charlotte once again? He was too tired to work it out right now anyway.)

Red John was dead. While he and Lisbon were still alive.

Perhaps someday things were going to change.

He would kiss her in the rain and wait for the sun to come out again.

And she would smile at him.

Someday.


End file.
